


Nothing quite like it

by Sneery69



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Cockles, M/M, Rimming, Smut, very vaguely implied Misha/Vicky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 11:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2067243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneery69/pseuds/Sneery69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen doesn’t like that he can’t see beyond the persona, the broad smiles, the mockery. Jensen doesn’t like Misha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing quite like it

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what I'm doing instead of writing my multi-chapter fic. It's smut, folks, pure smut. It's probably going to have a sequel again.

Jensen thinks that Misha Collins lives for the cameras on him, the eyes, the enthusiasm of young people. Jensen thinks that Misha loves every second of every moment someone is paying attention to him, feels like what Misha wants to happen twenty-four-seven is to be the star, the big celebrity that is eccentric and charming in equal measures. Jensen doesn’t like it, doesn’t like that he can’t see beyond the persona, the broad smiles, the mockery. Jensen doesn’t like Misha.

____

Jared tells him that Misha is hosting some kind of charity event. Jensen doesn’t really listen after the second or third mention of how much media attention the whole thing will get until Jared asks him to join in. "I don't have time", Jensen says and tries to sound sorry, but Jared isn’t fooled. He looks at him with a frown and no small amount of pity. "I think you two would get along really well, if you would just quit your superiority shit." He actually sounds angry, but Jensen has no patience for this – if his best friend feels like he needs to pander to Misha’s pseudo good-doing then he won’t stop him. Jensen leaves and accidentally closes the door too harshly.

___

For reasons he really cannot explain, he watches the event. Misha seems very busy, but still manages to be in the background of nearly every picture. Jared and another, stunningly handsome guy who introduces himself as Alan chatter amiably about the project that seems to consist mostly of a bunch of people rebuilding collapsed schools and housing after a big earth quake at the other end of the world. Some people are getting screen time, and Jared asks them random questions in that way he has that comes over as happy and carefree at best, as thoughtless and insensitive at worst. Jensen cringes once or twice, but overall, he feels Jared is doing a good job. Alan grins a lot and chimes in at the right places, his dark skin glistening in the sunlight of wherever the fuck they are. Jensen frowns at himself.

Then, almost at the end of the live stream, Misha jumps into the picture like he just remembered that they are being filmed. He grins at the camera, sweaty but energetic, and asks the viewers to donate money or, if they can’t do that, to promote the project or to come help directly.  
He does it in a way that immediately makes Jensen feel guilty for not participating. Misha keeps talking, in a genuine, imploring manner, about how important every single penny is, and then explains in what order and to what extent the money will be used. It sounds so sincere, so well-planned. Jensen switches off the TV when Misha plants a kiss on Jared’s cheek and hugs Alan for what seems like an eternity. He’s furious for feeling guilty, furious with himself for telling Jared no.

(He anonymously donates ten thousand dollars. It doesn’t make him feel better.)

___

They are on set again, and Jensen is content. Everywhere else, he feels inferior to Misha, insecure and bitter about it, but not here. Here, he is the one with more experience, more screen-time and more praise directed towards him. He acts out scene after scene, dialogue after dialogue, without a single mistake. But when he accidentally catches Misha’s eyes across the set, instead of looking envious or at least pretending to, Misha stares at him with such open admiration that Jensen feels himself falter mid-sentence. Someone shouts "Cut!" like they can’t believe it themselves, and neither can Jensen. He never throws his lines like this, not if he’s concentrated and completely in-character like today, and it’s all Misha’s fault. Jensen sends him an angry look, but Misha only smiles and gives him a thumps-up. Jensen, feeling mocked, glares harder, but back-pedals instantly when he sees that Misha is getting up, approaching him with big steps. He tries to pretend that he’s not even noticing him.  


"Hey." 

Jensen sighs and reluctantly turns around to stare at Misha, abandoning the piece of paper that has instructions for the scene on it. They’re almost of the same height, with Jensen maybe an inch taller, but somehow, he always feels small under Misha’s scrutiny.

"You’re incredible. How do you do that?"

Misha looks at him expectantly, with a strange kind of awe in his eyes that makes Jensen nervous. He doesn’t know what to say. Thanks? What? "Dean feels so real somehow, I wish I could pull it off like you do. Maybe you could give me some tips?"

Oh. Misha wants acting advice? From him? Jensen doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but he feels a glow of warmth erupt on his cheeks, pleasure and pride easy to read on his features. 

"I…sure?"

Misha’s grin gets even wider. His lips are chapped like he spends a good portion of his time nibbling on them, and his eyes are sparkling with an almost creepy delight. Jensen hates that he finds it captivating.

"Saturday, there’s a small gathering at my apartment. Jared can give you the address. Maybe you’d like to come and we can…talk?"  
Jensen doesn’t want to notice the pause, but he does. He blinks, confused, surprised, a lot of things, but before he can say anything, someone shouts at him to get on with it and Misha jogs back to the sidelines.

___

He doesn’t ask Jared for Misha’s address, but he somehow ends up at his apartment anyway. "Tell me again why I’m here?"

"Because you’re being an ass to him and you need to cut it."

Jensen frowns at Jared while they’re waiting for the lift. "I’m not an ass. I just don’t like him. "

Jared shakes his head, a look of disappointment on features that are better suited to express positive emotions. "You barely know him at all, Jen. It has been, what, three weeks? I don’t get it, you’re not usually this… prejudiced."

"It’s not like that." Jensen spits, and doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, what makes him so angry every time someone brings up Misha. 

They get into the lift, Jared pressing the number eleven. Jensen wonders if Jared has been here before. He could ask, of course, but feels a strange reluctance. He doesn’t really want to know. Jared wears a peculiar expression now, something Jensen can’t remember having seen before, a mix between caution and worry. Jared’s eyes dart to him briefly before he asks: "It’s not because he’s sleeping with men, is it?"

Jensen is rendered speechless. He’s dimly aware that he’s leaning heavily against the mirror behind him, and there’s a faint ringing in his ears that threatens to overtake his senses.

"Jensen, for fuck’s sake, get a grip! We’re there!" There’s a ping, somehow even louder than the noise in Jensen’s head, and suddenly the doors are open and Jared drags him into a room full of people.

___

"Stop looking so fucking scared, Jensen, he’s not gonna jump you, your homophobia shines strong and true." Jared is hissing in his ear, and Jensen would have answered, something along the lines of "I’m not a homophobe!" but Misha is approaching and Jensen’s thoughts die down to a faint buzzing. Two women to their right offer small glasses full of something that looks encouragingly alcoholic, and Jensen downs three before Misha gets the chance to speak.

"Jensen, Jared! Glad you came. Come on, let me introduce you to some people."

They make the round, Jensen nodding along to whatever Jared is saying, smiling and shaking hands, occasionally clapping a shoulder. Alan is there, with his shiny skin and a perfect wife. For some reason, he’s squinting at Jensen with something that looks worryingly like suspicion. But he feels pleasantly buzzed, Misha’s hand on his back a warm weight that emits…something. He’s feeling something, but he doesn’t want to think about it, and Jared throws him warning glances every few seconds.

They lose Jared to a cluster of younger people who all want to get an autograph. Jensen quickly excuses himself before he gets the same request and follows Misha to the balcony. It’s dark already, around eleven, and the sky is clear. 

"Nice apartment", Jensen says because he’s pretty sure that that’s what guests are supposed to talk about. 

Misha turns to him with a small smile. "I don’t like it, to be quite honest. I rented it exactly like this, furniture and everything. At home, I built my own house."

Jensen raises an eye brow. "You built it by yourself?"

Misha shrugs, bracing his arms on the railing and staring down onto Vancouver’s lights with a faraway look. "Some friends helped me. I … it was supposed to be a present for someone, but… it didn’t work out. So now I’m living in it alone." He sounds sad, and Jensen realizes that Misha is drunk, possibly very much so, by the way he seems to need the iron balustrade to keep his balance. 

"I even made the furniture myself. The bed, the desk, everything. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this."

It’s probably your persistent need to gloat, Jensen thinks maliciously and makes a sound that hopefully conveys that he’s surprised, too. But Misha doesn’t react, just pulls a bottle of something from seemingly nowhere and takes a huge swallow. Jensen must have panicked, or else he can’t explain why the next words leave his mouth: "I think I’d like to see it sometime." 

Misha turns to him, momentum too perfect to be as drunk as Jensen thought he was, and takes several steps towards him. Suddenly, they are very close. Jensen can smell the liquor on Misha’s breath, feels the warmth that comes from his body. Misha places the bottle next to him on the floor without breaking eye contact and comes up the same way, his jacket brushing against Jensen’s trousers. Misha’s hands reach up slowly but without hesitation, like he’s giving Jensen time to pull away or possibly to say something cutting. When nothing of the sort happens, Misha cups Jensen's face with one hand and cards through the short hair on the back of his head with the other. Jensen can’t seem to do anything but breathe harshly, almost grazing Misha’s skin every time he exhales, and then Jensen stops pulling air altogether when Misha’s tongue takes a tentative swipe over his bottom lip. He feels it like electricity, feels like there should be thunderclaps and lightning in the distance. It’s overwhelming and why didn’t he see this coming?

Jensen can’t remember having leaned in, but that’s what he must have done. His hands are wrapped around Misha’s head, thumbs stroking below his jaw while he’s kissing him. He has never kissed a man. It feels rougher, hotter, more like what he always thought kissing should be like. But he has never really wanted to do this with a man. Has he?

The doubt gets too strong to ignore, and Jensen pulls back. Misha looks at him with bright blue eyes that have no right to be so striking in barely any light. Through the glass, someone shouts his name, shrill and demanding. Misha grabs his bottle of liquor and heads inside without looking back.

___

Jensen manages to stay for another hour by strategically placing himself with a bunch of business men in suits who are too drunk to get anything done, but still try to convey an air of aloofness. Jensen nods along and from time to time adds a string of numbers to the conversation. He goes so far as to describe a seemingly very important chart that everyone pretends to know the results of before finally excusing himself, reassuring everyone that, of course, one would meet the day after to discuss the issue further. 

He finds Jared in deep conversation with Misha – of course. If Jensen were anywhere near sober, he would have fled. Even now, the ball of tension in his gut threatens to pull his feet over to the door, but he forces himself to approach them. Jared has his back to the room, which means that Misha spots him first. He doesn’t stop talking, but fixes his eyes on him and doesn’t look away until Jensen is finally within range of Jared’s shoulder.

He shoves him gently, trying to make himself known and apologize in one move. "I’m tired. I’ll take a taxi back if that’s okay with you?" Jensen has known Jared long enough to be certain about the choice of words that will allow Jared to stay without feeling bad about it, and it works. Jensen nods at Misha, who gives him nothing but an intriguing stare. Jensen feels hot, like he’s burning up under Misha’s gaze, and yet he can’t seem to look away. Finally, after what feels like minutes, Jared coughs rather loudly, and Jensen fears that it hasn’t been his first attempt.

"Uh. I’m…going, then."

Jensen turns around and flees. 

___

There’s really just one person he could go to about this, and after angsting and panicking for two days straight and getting exactly nothing done on set, Jensen forces himself to call Jared.

"So…there’s that thing I’d like to talk about."

Jared hangs up and knocks on his trailer not even two minutes later, barging in with the air of a person on a life-saving mission.  
Jensen is on his third beer already, because there’s no way he’s doing this sober. 

"What the hell, Jen? What’s going on?"

Jared is right to be angry, of course. Jensen has been awful to him and probably to everyone on set. He has tried to ignore Misha completely, which didn’t go well considering that Cas and Dean have a lot of scenes scheduled this month. 

"You might want to sit down for this." Jensen hands Jared a beer and tries not to freak out. He can’t believe the words that are already bubbling up inside of him.

Jared just stares, bottle in hand, like he’s expecting Jensen to declare that he’s quitting Supernatural or ending their friendship any minute.  
Jensen fiddles with the label of his beer. "He kissed me." He finally mumbles, and great Jensen, that’s already a lie, isn’t it? Because he’s pretty sure he was the one leaning in that last bit, not Misha.

"What? Who?" Jared sounds incredulous, confused, but after some moments, realization dawns on his face. It’s almost funny to watch.

"Misha. You’re talking about Misha."

Jensen says nothing, which is, apparently, confirmation enough. To Jensen’s surprise, Jared gets instantly angry again, jumping up from the couch and starting for the door. "That fucker, I can’t believe…I knew he… but without consent, like what the actual fuck did he think he was doing, I’m going to…"

Jensen manages to catch Jared’s sleeve before his hand makes it to the door handle.

"I…Woah, Jared, thanks for the concern, but… that’s not how it was. At all."

Jared stares at him like he’s suddenly become some different species, and only after his arms fall limply to his sides does Jensen dare to relax a bit.

"What are you trying to say, Jen?" The nickname comes out softly, almost tenderly, and it makes Jensen feel self-conscious, vulnerable. 

"I…at the party, on the balcony. He was all weird and mysterious and suddenly… I don’t quite know how we got there." Jensen sinks down on the cushions again, feeling defeated. Jared doesn’t move for a while, and Jensen is so caught up in the memory of that night that he notices belatedly that his best friend is looking at him from approximately two inches away.

"But you wanted to? I mean…the kiss?" 

Jensen moves his head back because he can’t see Jared properly like this without going cross-eyed, and because close proximity tends to make him uncomfortable sometimes. 

He remembers that Jared has asked a question, a question he really doesn’t want to answer. Then again, Jared doesn’t look like he’s going to cave in on this.

"Yes." He admits it grudgingly, not only to Jared, but to himself. He has wanted it. He wants it. He wants to kiss Misha again, in all variations, and he doesn’t want to, because that would mean things, right? Life-altering things. Things that may be associated with his failed past relationships, with his anger at everyone lately, with that strange, churning feeling he gets when Misha turns his ridiculous eyes on him.

Jared sits down gingerly, arranging his long limbs until they’re stretched out under the small table. "Huh. That’s what this was all about, then."

Jensen has nothing to say to that, so he shrugs helplessly and gets up to search for the Whiskey.

"You know, I really started to freak out about you. There were moments, like in the elevator when I thought you’d…be some kind of homophobe or…I just didn’t recognize you, you know? And the way you looked at Misha just creeped me out, all aggressive and…Well, I’m actually kind of relieved that it was just a gay panic."

Jensen takes a huge gulp right out of the bottle and places a full tumbler in front of Jared. He says nothing, because, in hindsight, it makes a strange amount of sense. 

Jared seems to get him on a basic level and just joins him in his silent drinking for a while. Sometime around midnight, he gets up, stretching noisily and heading for the door. "Will you end up sleeping with him?" he asks while he’s putting on his boots. Jensen is too drunk to think of an appropriate comeback, and when he whispers "Wha?" Jared has already left.

___

Jensen ignores everything for two more weeks because that’s just the kind of coward he is, but Dean’s scenes with Castiel suddenly feel charged with …energy. Nobody says anything at first, too relieved that he finally worked out whatever his problems with these takes have been, but late one night, after a particularly heavy scene, Singer takes him aside.

"I’m saying this just so we’re clear, Jensen. I love what you two are doing. Really. But if we don’t want to venture into the outright homoerotic here, you gotta tune it down a bit."

Jensen wants to laugh because apparently, that’s exactly where he wants to end up. He realizes he’s actually laughing only because Singer starts to join in. "I know, it’s ridiculous, right? But that’s kinda the vibe everyone gets, whatever you think you’re doing."

Jensen abruptly stops, feeling the words like cold water on his spine. "Yeah. Ridiculous."

___

It’s not even a full twenty-four hours later that the subject comes up again. Jensen is on his way to the make-up trailer when he overhears furious voices coming from behind a requisite tank. He considers ignoring it for maybe two seconds, but it’s pretty obviously Misha’s voice that’s the loudest, so yeah, he’s investigating. There are some papier-mâché rocks and trees between them, but through the cracks, Jensen can see and hear everything clearly. It’s Singer who’s with Misha, and he looks angry, but also confused. Jensen is glad he’s not the only one Misha has that effect on. 

"You literally just told me to be less gay, how am I supposed to say these lines in a platonic way?" Misha shouts, and Singer flinches. 

"That’s not how…Look, the fangirls love the subtext, but we need to reign it in. The casual viewer could be getting alienated by all the…"

"No", Misha spits, and Jensen is impressed because although Singer is an okay kind of guy, he’s also their first director and not exactly known for his patience with being interrupted. "When you allowed me on the show, I had but one condition, and you agreed. This is it, I’m calling it in. Kill Castiel for the Season Finale, because I don’t want to be a part of…"

"Mish." Jensen realizes too late that it was him who had spoken. Worse, his brain has apparently settled for a nickname.

Singer looks even more surprised than Misha himself, and that’s to say something. Unfortunately, the next thing his brain does is pulling a blank.  
When it’s obvious nobody is going to say anything soon, Jensen coughs. "Um. A word?"

Great. Now he’s asking for more conversation he doesn’t know how to hold. But Misha nods, and Singer seems almost relieved, throwing Jensen a meaningful look that is probably supposed to convey: ‘You deal with this.’

When Misha comes over to his side of the paper wall, Jensen realizes that he was supposed to be with the make-up department ten minutes ago.

"Uh, I. Could we…Talk this evening? Because I really have to go, Natasha hates when I’m late and when she’s angry she’s always getting out the mascara and…"

Misha kisses him. It’s just a small, quick peck, but it shuts Jensen up more effectively than any words ever could. "I’ll bring pizza." And just like that, Misha turns around, expression weirdly unreadable, and heads over to his own trailer.

___

Misha does bring pizza, and it’s Jensen’s favourite. Jensen blushes at the thought of Misha pestering Jared about his food preferences. That’s what must have happened, right?

"Is pepperoni not good? I could have sworn you’d be a pepperoni person." Yeah, so whatever. Jensen bites into his piece without comment and savors it because it’s darn delicious, and Misha’s strangeness is not gonna ruin the experience.

As it turns out, that’s where Jensen is wrong. Misha barely lets him finish his bite before he’s right up in his personal space again, forcing Jensen to press back against the couch. 

"Misha, what…"

Misha climbs into his lap. He’s... A man is straddling Jensen’s lap, and it’s Misha. He doesn’t know if he can do this sober, he really doesn’t know.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Uh…" Jensen’s hands settle automatically above Misha’s hips. He tries to tell himself that he's about to push him off.

"Singer was telling me to deliver the lines in a suggestive way, but not make it 'too gay'. Can you believe it?" Actually, Jensen can, but only because Singer mostly said the same thing to him.

"I can’t do this. I’m not made for this. You could probably pull it off, but I can’t." Before Jensen has figured out if that last bit was a compliment or an insult, Misha attacks his mouth with a kiss so brutal that Jensen moans in pain, and then bittersweet pleasure when Misha’s tongue strokes over the hurt, soothes the ache and makes it prickle instead.

"Mish. Mish, wait." Misha pulls back instantly, a look of alarm on his face, and makes to scramble off, but Jensen catches him at the hips. "Don’t, I… I’m just really new to this?"

Jensen doesn’t know why he needed a break, just that his brain is currently a mess and he’s not sure he likes how entirely he wants this, everything, Misha. But he’s not even drunk, he can’t blame it on anything but himself.

"Do you want to slow down?" Misha looks wary, like he was sure before and suddenly isn’t anymore, and Jensen regrets that he’s such a chickenshit.

"Not…really. Well. Is this a…a bed-kind of situation?"

Misha smiles and Jensen is sure he hasn’t seen this particular brand before. It makes the back of his neck tingle with desire and a strange kind of tenderness he’s not sure what to do with. 

"I very much hope so."

Jensen nods and they get up. It’s not awkward like Jensen thought it would be. Misha’s hands wander over his back and his shoulders like he can’t stop touching him, and Jensen feels equal parts shy and hot.

His bed is big, thankfully, and Misha flops down on it with a grin so wide it shows his gums. "Will you undress for me?" The words startle Jensen and he freezes halfway towards the bed. A striptease? That’s not the kind of thing he’s into normally, but Misha just looks at him, eyes big and full of desire, promising safety and adventure. 

Jensen doesn’t know what it is about Misha that makes him want to explore everything all of a sudden, but he starts slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He’s not doing it differently than if he were alone, but Misha makes no secret of how turned on he is. Jensen can see the outline of his dick clearly through the jeans. He swallows hard, starts to strip out of his own trousers, and finally stands there naked, red in the face, but so aroused it’s almost ridiculous.

So he likes being looked at, after all.

"You’re incredibly beautiful." And wow, Misha would be the kind of guy to use compliments in bed. Jensen tries to brush it off, sarcastic comment halfway out of his mouth, but Misha doesn’t let him. "I want you to come here."

Jensen is also not the kind of guy who likes being told what to do, except it looks like he’s totally that guy, because suddenly he’s on the bed next to Misha, who strips down quickly and efficiently while Jensen watches greedily because now it really doesn’t matter anymore. He wants this, and there’s no turning back from the thought.

Misha is on him in an instant, kissing him deeply, passionately. Jensen likes the feeling of this tongue slipping between his lips even though he never really liked French kissing before, and the obscene sound Misha makes when Jensen bites carefully down is worth some revelations about himself.

"Turn around."

Jensen hesitates again. Being on his stomach would put him in an incredibly vulnerable position, and he tends to avoid those. 

"Jen, if I ever do or ask something you don’t like, you need to tell me or this isn’t gonna work."

Right, so Misha can be a responsible adult if he wants to. Jensen nods, then surprises himself again by turning on his stomach.

"You’re perfect." Misha whispers against his neck. It sends goose-bumps along Jensen’s spine down to a place he never considered before to be sexual, but that somehow is suddenly, in this position and this situation.

Misha kisses down his back, massaging his muscles with his hands while he tastes and licks and occasionally bites. Jensen feels himself unravel under his mouth, feels all the tension and fear go. He knows, deep down, that it never was like this before, that this here is what has been missing,that made him try to avoid everything but casual in-and-out sex.

When Misha’s kisses halt at the base of Jensen’s spine, he doesn’t tense, or protest, and Misha hums in appreciation before sinking his hands into Jensen’s buttocks. Jensen tries not to be too obvious about spreading his legs, but Misha, lying partially on them, can’t really not notice.

"Yeah, come on, open up for me." He sounds breathless, like he’s every bit as turned on as Jensen is. Misha moves further down until he’s lying mostly between Jensen’s legs and can rest his arms on his thighs, and then finally exposes Jensen’s hole.

Misha doesn’t do anything for a while and Jensen imagines him looking, just examining him there, exposed and bare, feels himself losing his composure quickly. It shouldn’t be so hot, shouldn’t make him want to come suddenly, but oh god, he’s close. "Mish…" It’s barely more than a whimper. He clenches his ass, and Misha makes a sound like choking. "So hot, so fucking hot, Jen, I want…" "Yes, do it, please, I need…"

Misha doesn’t wait any longer, plunges down to taste and probe with his tongue until he’s lapping greedily at Jensen’s hole. There’s nothing Jensen can compare the feeling to, it’s so incredibly intimate and erotic and he comes undone under it, feels himself shake and sob and babble without really hearing the words. There are distinct slurping sounds, Misha’s hand grabbing and stroking the skin of his buttocks, and then his tongue breaches the muscle and he’s in. Misha doesn’t slow down after that, tongue fucking him mercilessly, and Jensen has no choice but to come. It’s like a giant wave crashing into him, electric shocks that curse through him heightened further by the way he feels himself clench around Misha’s tongue, and Jensen thinks he might black out from the sheer intensity of it.

Maybe he does, because the next thing Jensen knows, Misha is lying next to him, pupils blown so wide he can barely make out any blue, lips obscenely red and wet.

"What do you want?" Jensen hears himself say, because his brain to mouth filter is seriously damaged right now and he really doesn’t know how to proceed. He would probably finger a woman who hasn’t come, or maybe move down between her legs, but with a man?

"Anything you’re willing to give me", Misha breathes, and Jensen knows that he means it by his smile stretching wide and the content drop of his eye-lids.

Jensen moves his hand carefully down Misha’s side. It’s not as strange as he had thought, touching a man like this. His brain doesn’t seem to anticipate a generous curve at the hips, just goes with it, with the angles and the coarse hair on Misha’s legs like that’s what he wanted all along. Maybe it is, Jensen thinks again, maybe that’s what I always wanted.

He wraps his hand around Misha with a boldness he doesn’t feel. Their closeness lets him examine Misha’s face for clues, but basically anything he tries, from stroking loosely to rough twists, seems to send Misha into equal amounts of bliss, and he comes in less than a minute all over Jensen’s fingers, keening against his neck.

Misha wraps his arms around Jensen almost instantly after Jensen releases him and pulls him close. "Please don’t tell me to go", he mumbles sleepily, and Jensen wonders if he means their current after sex situation or something else right before he falls asleep himself.

___


End file.
